


Valentine's Day Drabbles

by doctormissy



Category: Hannibal (TV), James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Murder Husbands, Surprises, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormissy/pseuds/doctormissy
Summary: Three short Valentine's Day drabbles. All of them are sort of fluffy.1. Johnlock:“It’s Valentine’s Day, John, I couldn’t have just forgotten that, now could I?”2. 00Q:“Are you free on Tuesday evening, Q?”3. Hannigram:“Then let them find out. Let them know this is our design.”





	1. Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> 14th of February is here again, and with it my ships and their way of spending it. The works are unrelated, usually fluffy. The next one comes tomorrow and the last one on Valentine's Day. Enjoy! :)

John’s mobile beeped inside his pocket. He quickly pulled it out and read the message. It was from Sherlock.

_Come to 221B. Emergency,_ it said. He was not sure if he should believe it or not after all that time.

John looked round him. The street was busy, people passed him by with their shoppings and prams and briefcases. There was an empty cab just pulling in the kerb. He considered getting on.

Then another message came. He has known him all too well. _I said emergency, John._ Alright then. He sighed and waved at the cabbie.

 

John ran up the stairs; his heavy steps sounded like a hammer knocking in the nail. The 221B door burst open.

“If you robbed of my lunch break just because you ran out of salt again, Sherlock—” John paused in the middle of a sentence. He did not see _that_ coming.

There was—there was a box wrapped in red paper with actual _hearts_ on it that was clearly for _him_ from no one else but _Sherlock_ on the table at his armchair, and the detective himself sat in it, legs crossed, mobile in hands, waiting, smiling, staring right at him.

John stared back at him with confusion shining in his eyes.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, John, I couldn’t have just forgotten that, now could I?” replied Sherlock, ever so casual, and then added a wink. “Let’s have lunch together.”

Well, John couldn’t have said no to Sherlock trying to be romantic, could he?


	2. Before It's Too Late

James pressed his back against a wall. He glanced behind the corner to see how many of the mobsters were still standing and firing. The number was five. He was running out of ammunition, and they had submachine guns. 

007 has fought his way out of far worse situations, undoubtedly. But one could never know what might happen in an old hovel in Iraq that has been currently occupied by him and some very angry drug cartel associates, so he as well might say it.

“Are you free on Tuesday evening, Q?” he asked the man on the other side of the comms and fired two rounds. Both hit their target, if not exactly the bull’s-eye. 

_“Why would that be any of your concern, 007?”_ Q answered; bitter, sceptical, concerned. _“Turn left. Try to get them to narrower corridors and eliminate them one by one.”_

“Perhaps I’d like you to join me for dinner,” he replied as he availed himself of the cover of the thick wall again. Bullets flew through the air, and one has missed his shoulder by a hair. “If I come back from here _in one piece_.”

_“Sorry, I can’t hear you over the fire, 007, come again?”_

Of course the moment was bloody ruined. However, James fired twice more. He was out of cartridge now, counting on his hand-on-hand combat skills only. He turned left as Q instructed him to. He did not even throw away his empty pistol, that serious he has been about the proposal. 

“If I survive this, will you go out on a date with me, on Tuesday?”

_“Tuesday’s Valentine’s Day.”_

“Yes.”

_“Is that another one of your bad jokes?”_

James ran down the stairs. “I am all but joking, Q. I want to have dinner with you. Do you?” 

Pause. The Quartermaster was silent, and James was more worried than he has been about the gunmen. And then Q just said _“Yes.”_

James’ heart pounded once, twice. Brand new motivation ran through his veins. He had one hell of a reason not to give up the mission now. Even when a bullet scraped his shoulder and another one nearly hit his left side.


	3. exposed (hearts)

Blood dripped from the tip of Will’s middle finger. It touched down a rose petal, and gathered within the petals. Then another followed. And another. It made the flower look drowning in black dye. 

Hannibal’s eyes lingered on their red painting on snow for few more instants. He has been admiring it with every cell of his body, every piece of his soul. Of their joined minds and hearts.

His lips twitched with unfeigned fulfilment—and _love_ , so much love. It was Valentine’s Day, the day one should remember and cherish your beloved ones, after all. 

Speaking of beloved ones, Hannibal tore away from the piece of art and laid his gaze on Will. He slowly moved closer to him, taking in the rage in his shining eyes and power in his stance. He had to put a hand on his cheek and caress it almost softly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love,” whispered Hannibal.

“We laid our hearts bare. They will find out.” Did he… have doubt now, in the aftermath, when the adrenaline faded from his veins?

“Then let them find out,” Hannibal said. They could always run away to a better place in a faraway country. He looked Will in the eye. “Let them know this is our design.”

Will turned his head to the large heart of roses amidst which a couple lay like they would in their bed on their wedding day – unveiling their naked love to everyone. “Let the world know we belong together, and we are in control.”

“I wouldn’t have found better words myself.” 

Hannibal had Will’s focus again, and his lips on his own as he almost flung himself on him. Their mouths opened up, as did their feelings. They had a bloody tinge to them. 

Hannibal brought Will closer. He gripped his waist with the other hand, a hand covered in blood just like Will’s, not minding the fluid or the stains it would mark Will’s coat with. He could mind his mouth, his taste, his smell solely. The mouth sucking breath out of him until it was just impossible.

They had to pull away. And when they did, they rested their foreheads against each other, and smiled.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hannibal.”


End file.
